


It's A New Art Form, Showing People How Little We Care

by thecoloursinthegravel



Series: Two Years [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:12:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoloursinthegravel/pseuds/thecoloursinthegravel
Summary: Two years of letters I never send. Two years of missing you.Still Remember A Time When You Felt Like Home from Calum’s point of view.





	It's A New Art Form, Showing People How Little We Care

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am currently very ill and hoping to go to a chronic pain inpatient programme across the country as nothing has helped to ease the pain and I seem to only be getting worse and worse. I'd love to get back to writing and I miss posting on here every day. Absolutely no pressure at all, but if you have a little to spare and have enjoyed any of my writing, I would be so, so grateful if you would consider helping me raise the funds to travel to this hospital. 
> 
> If you wouldn't mind please looking at my ko-fi account: ko-fi.com/thecoloursinthegravel
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)  
> P.S. Sorry it isn't a link and you have to copy and paste!

**26 th July 2015**

I went to our beach with Luke. I love Luke, but it’s not the same.

It’s our beach, Ash. It’s is ours. Us. Together.

There is no us anymore.

God, are we going to have a custody battle over a beach?

That’s not funny. None of this is funny.

I feel cold. And lost. Definitely lost.

For so many years I was so afraid of this. Now it’s finally happened and you really wouldn’t believe it, but it’s worse than I ever imagined. I didn’t even think that was possible.

I cried in front of Luke today.

I didn’t want to but, fuck, when you’ve lost as much as I have you’ll understand how it was impossible not to.

Don’t even start with the whole “I lost you too” shit because it isn’t the same. You losing me is categorically not the same as me losing you. You can deny it all you like but I was a boyfriend to you. You were my entire goddamn universe.

I know it was technically a mutual break up. I know it had to happen. I know we were making each other more miserable than anything else but it still feels like you’ve left me.

Just like I was scared of for all those years. How funny.

No. Not funny. Sorry. Definitely not funny.

 

 

**1 st August 2015**

I’m staying with my parents. I don’t know for how long but I hate it.

I love them, so much, and I know they love me. But it isn’t the same.

I feel like I’m running away. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m a little kid just running back to my parents crying because I hurt myself doing something I shouldn’t. Like climbing a tree, or jumping over streams in the woods.

I definitely hurt myself. But it still doesn’t feel like I was doing something wrong. I think we were doing something very, very right.

I miss us. I know that’s a stupid thing to say because I miss the version of us that existed a year ago and I _know_ we can’t get that back but Ashton, it feels like, maybe, maybe we can. Maybe we can get us back. I need you back. I need you.

 

 

**12 th October 2015**

I’m back. Did you miss me?

Please don’t answer that.

I saw you the other day, in the park.

Coincidentally, the other day, I almost started crying in the middle of the park.

It’s strange what jetlag and having half your heart missing can do to a person.

Still not funny. Right.

(I miss you.)

 

 

**15 th October 2015**

I got a new flat. It’s okay.

It’s about the same size as ours- sorry- yours. But I have twice as much space. Pretty cool, huh?

 

 

**23 rd November 2015**

I got a dog. I guess you know that already, you’ve seen me walking him enough times.

The space felt too big without you.

Every part of me feels too big without you. I feel so empty. My body is too big for me to live in anymore.

Losing you is like losing a piece of myself and I hate how horribly cliched that is. But I suppose people write about it a lot because it’s true.

There’s suddenly this massive gap inside me and I don’t know what to do with all this extra space.

So I got a dog.

I love him.

It isn’t quite the same though, is it?

 

 

**10 th December 2015**

I still haven’t gotten used to cooking for one.

You would not believe the amount of food I have wasted over the past few months.

I wish that was funny.

 

 

**22 nd January 2016**

I am trying so hard not to let you become a reason to be afraid of the supermarket, for fear of bumping into you in the cereal aisle.

I move around the supermarket quicker than I ever did before, desperately trying to minimise the possibility of seeing you and feeling whatever feeling I shouldn’t feel about you.

That’s a lot of feeling.

I’m kind of sick of how much I’ve been feeling.

Even though I’m a much faster shopper than I ever was with you, (back when we dragged our feet from aisle to aisle, chatting mindlessly about anything we wanted, taking our time because we were young and in love and, god, we had so much of it) I still stay stuck to the spot for a full two minutes every time I stand in front of the pasta sauces.

I still stare the jars down like I’m willing myself to walk away and buy the individual ingredients for a homemade pasta sauce I _know_ I’d be proud of, no matter how bad it turned out.

I still sigh when I realise I’m kidding myself if I actually think I’ll ever invest my time into making it. I’ll just end up with a bunch of raw ingredients and no dinner.

Every time, I still pick up that jar and put it in my basket, and I curse myself for never investing my time in the right things.

Maybe we should have invested more time in us?

We were young, in love, and we thought we had so much of it.

Ashton – we never, ever had enough.

 

 

**14 th February 2016**

Happy Valentine’s day.

 

 

**25 th February 2016**

I was too clingy, wasn’t I?

 

 

**2 nd March 2016**

I think I look like shit.

I’ve not been sleeping much.

The bed’s too big.

 

 

**17 th April 2016**

I am so restless in this too big apartment that I feel like going for a run four times a day just to get out of here.

I then remember that going out means I might bump into you.

I decide relentlessly bouncing my knee and picking at the sleeve of my shirt to expel just some of this uncomfortable energy is a better fate than seeing you while I look like I do right now.

(I still, just so you know, look like shit.)

 

 

**26 th July 2016**

Do you want to know something ridiculous? I still can’t make that stupid pasta sauce from scratch. I still don’t bother.

See, I haven’t changed a bit.

I bet you have. I bet you’ve moved on with someone new. I bet you’re happier now than you ever were with me.

I hate to sound so bitter but do you know what, Ashton? I am. I am fucking bitter.

I’m bitter that I still care and you don’t.

A year. A year later and I still feel a tightness in my chest when I see you around.

I can’t do this anymore.

 

 

**9 th August 2016**

So much of what is hard about seeing you comes down to this constant need to say hello.

I want to talk to you and beg you to take me back. But I don’t actually want that. Not really.

My heart kind of does but my brain knows that it would be a horrible idea that would only result in lot of heartache.

I am tired of heartache.

I will not say hello.

I can’t.

I can’t talk to you and know whatever we say is only going to end with a stiff goodbye and having to watch you walk away.

I cannot possibly handle seeing you walk away from me again.

 

 

**1 st October 2016**

It’s easier now.

I know you’re there but, it’s easier to keep walking past you. My steps do not falter like they used to. I can keep looking forward, even though, sometimes, I can feel your eyes burning holes into the side of my head.

I don’t look at you, Ashton.

I keep moving forward.

Aren’t you proud of me?

 

 

**23 rd January 2017**

This distance between us is fine because I tell myself it is.

I don’t think of you every day. Not anymore.

I still see you around, though.

I still can’t make that pasta sauce.

I suppose some things never change.

 

 

**12 th March 2017**

I went back to our beach.

I used to think it was the most important place on Earth. I thought it would be where we’d make memories for the rest of our lives together.

I used to think it was almost magical.

Turns out, it’s just a beach.

 

 

**9 th May 2017**

I have gotten used to making dinner for one.

 

 

**26 th July 2017**

Everything between us doesn’t mean a thing because we don’t let it.

We’re not a couple. We aren’t even friends.

We haven’t spoken in two years.

We owe each other nothing.

I know it’s sad. And it breaks my heart.

But you and I?

We’re just strangers.

 

 

 

 

          

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Tennis Court by Lorde
> 
> I've been meaning to post this for a while but because it sucks and I suck I didn't.  
> Thank you for reading! :)


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